Ten

JADE POV.

*****

He was drunk again. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs, and I cowered in the dark closet, my hand clenching harder on the kitchen knife I held. Sweat beaded, then trickled down the side of my face. My stomach grumbled in protest, as it should have since I hadn't eaten for two whole days. He was the one who fed us, but I hated him showing up. It was much quieter when he wasn't around. But it also meant no food to eat for days, except if mother met a new customer.

I wet my patched lips, my ears pressed against the wall. They were fighting again, and their voices were getting louder.

"Where is that little piece of shit! She can't continue feeding off my hard-earned money without earning her keep!" He roared, flinging the table against the wall. The shattering glasses made me wince and I clutched the knife tighter.